


Throwing Rocks

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 08:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10963542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: He wasn’t expecting a knock on his window.





	Throwing Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> This is pointless but I don’t care. It’s fluff and I fucking love fluff. Jon’s 19-20, Damian’s 22-23.

If anyone asked, he’d say it was his injuries that woke him up. The pain. Of his lacerated lungs, the broken knee, the concussion, the shattered fingers, the… _everything_.

But in reality – it was the soft little knock on his window. The _knock-knock-knock_ that reverberated in the silence of the night. The rush of panic through his system that someone was coming to take him, kidnap him away from his father and his family. Finish the job that their villains had already started on him this evening, and what kind of story would that be? That he was murdered as he lay helpless in his bed?

But as he tried to ball his hand into a useless fist, a head popped up over his windowsill, and he found himself instinctively relaxing.

The bright blue eyes searched the room quickly, before landing on him – then an equally blinding smile appeared too.

“Hi.” He whispered.

“You’re an idiot.” Damian hissed, waving his hand anyway, indicating the window was unlocked. “Does my father know you’re here? You’re lucky you weren’t caught by the manor security systems. I would have had to tell Superman his son died because he was a _moron_.”

Jon laughed as he pushed the windowpane up, slipping quickly over the ledge. He kept it cracked, though they both already knew he wouldn’t need a quick exit route.

(Probably.)

“I have this cool case I thought you might like.” Jon hummed as he sauntered up to the side of the bed. He wasn’t wearing a uniform. Just jeans and flannel, and those stupid glasses. “Wanna partner up and help me out?”

Damian scowled as Jon dropped to the floor beside his bed, resting his elbows on the mattress.

“Actually, no.” Jon smirked. “You don’t get a choice. Suit up, _Nightwing_. We got bad guys to stop.”

“…You know I can’t.” Damian droned in annoyance. Jon just cackled. “As much as I’d _like_ to…Father says I’m out of commission for the next month at least, even if I happen to heal quickly.”

“I know, I know. I’m just joking. Remember when you used to do that to me all the time when we were kids?” Jon asked, a nostalgic lilt to his tone as he reached his hand out, and carefully stroked his fingers along Damian’s face. “How you feeling, beautiful?”

“Terrible. Everything hurts.” Damian whined, even as he leaned into the hand and closed his eyes. “…Really though, _does_ my father know you’re here?”

“Nope.”

“My brother?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked up. “…What about your parents?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Jon!” Damian scolded. “You _know_ we’re not supposed to-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jon drawled, suddenly shifting back to his feet, and climbing onto the bed. Without warning, he flipped his leg over Damian’s chest, straddling his torso, though still being careful not to put any actual weight on Damian’s body and his injuries. “You did this to me for _years_ -”

“I did _not_ sit provocatively on top of you _ever_ in those years, thank you very much.”

“-It’s about time I started trying to even the score a little bit, don’t you think?” Jon continued, leaning down until his forearms were on the pillow on either side of Damian’s face. “Besides, you know if I asked _Batman_ for permission to see you, he’d say no.”

“…He’s just being protective, you know that.” Damian huffed quietly. He could feel his cheeks heating up in a blush, and felt his soul lighten as Jon noticed, and smiled. “He doesn’t blame you.”

Jon’s smile faded a little, and turned sad.

“He could.” Jon whispered. “He’d probably be very right to do so, too.”

Damian pursed his lips, let his gaze dart between Jon’s eyes. Suddenly, he reached up, tugging at the arms of Jon’s glasses. “…I hate when you wear these.”

It was a terrible segue, but Jon ran with it anyway.

“Really?” Jon murmured. As soon as the glasses were off, he lowered his head those last few inches. Brushed his nose along Damian’s skin before starting a trail of kisses on his jaw. “Because I love when _you_ do.”

Damian hummed a scoff, slowly closing his eyes. He could fall asleep like this, had many times in the past. But then Jon’s wandering hand skimmed a bruise along his ribs, and he involuntarily gasped in pain.

Jon immediately lurched up, holding his hands up like in surrender. “What hurts?”

“I told you.” Damian grit out. “ _Everything_.”

Jon didn’t say anything, but Damian could feel his guilt.

“…What can I do?” He whispered, reaching out to hold Damian’s face. “What can I do to help you?”

As the pain subsided, Damian sighed, looking up at the other.

“You can stop worrying, and lay with me.” Damian decided. “Is that too difficult?”

Jon shook his head. “Where would hurt you least?”

Damian shrugged, and held his hands out. Jon tilted his head, blue eyes sad, and looked away, as he carefully crawled off Damian to the free side of the bed. Gently, he pushed one arm under Damian’s pillow, and laid the other one across his waist, focusing on the slow heartbeat of the body in his arms.

Damian couldn’t move much, but shifted so his head was cradled in the curve of Jon’s neck. Intertwined his fingers with the ones on his hip, and clung to Jon’s elbow with the other. Gave a content sigh as he closed his eyes again.

He always did sleep better in Jon’s arms, after all.

“…I’m sorry.” Jon whispered into his temple with a careful kiss. “I should have been there.”

“You shouldn’t have. I’m _glad_ you weren’t.” Damian hummed. “My grandfather had Kryptonite there. He was prepared for you. If you’d have been there, he would have hurt you as well as me. Then I would have killed him.”

“…That.” He snorted a quiet laugh. “That doesn’t make me feel better, Damian.”

“it’s not supposed to. I’m just saying, if you’d have been there, I’d have killed someone and we’d have been separated forever.” Damian explained, like it was obvious. “And…you’d have been hurt, and I don’t want that.”

“Oh yeah, because just you getting hurt is so much better.” Jon drawled. “None of this changes the fact. I should have been there.”

Damian shifted to look up at him, sleepy eyes fierce. “But you’re here now, and that’s what matters to me.”

Jon just kissed his head again.

But suddenly, Damian’s glare jerked over his shoulder.

“And he’s _staying_ here.” He called loudly, though it sounded like it hurt him. Jon blinked, and twisted. Bruce Wayne was standing in the doorway, an annoyed scowl on his face. “So if you have a _problem_ with it Father, take it up with Superman, since he apparently is unable to control his son.”

“…H-hi, Mr. Wayne.” Jon tried to smile. Bruce didn’t return it. “I…I just wanted to check on him…”

Bruce kept his frown, but suddenly checked his watch. “…Call for me in forty-five minutes, Jonathan. He’ll need his next round of medication then, and a change to the bandages.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Damian, you’re injured.” Bruce scolded. “So no sort of… _fooling around_.”

“Save your sexual warnings for someone who needs them. Like _Grayson_.” Damian drawled, rolling his eyes even as Jon’s face heated up in embarrassment. “ _Goodnight_ , Father.”

Bruce grumbled, silently closing the door behind him.

Jon groaned, hiding his face in Damian’s hair. “He’s going to kill me.”

“He won’t.” Damian chuckled weakly, settling his head back against Jon’s neck. Pause, then: “I’ll duel him for you.”

Jon hesitated, focused his ears to the house – heard Bruce already calling his parents. Laughed incredulously as he held Damian closer.

“And much to your surprise, I’m _sure_.” Jon sighed, focusing on Damian’s heartbeat again. The slowing breaths of Damian – still alive and safe and he _didn’t lose him this time_ – dozing off in his arms. “That _still_ doesn’t make me feel better.”


End file.
